


Crippled Wings

by SuklaaSiili



Series: Genyatta Assassin AU [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Assassin AU, Blood, Fluff, Genyatta - Freeform, Human Genji Shimada, M/M, Violence, hurt comfort, sequel for fly little sparrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuklaaSiili/pseuds/SuklaaSiili
Summary: It has been a year since they met, a year since they parted ways with a promise they would reunite once, to discover new and to embrace what they already know of each other. Zenyatta finds it difficult to live his life at the monastery in Nepal like he did before, and once he comes to understand the reason, he is unable to ignore the longing he feels any longer.Mean while Genji has managed to escape the grasp of assassin brotherhood he once belonged to, but he hasn't heard a word of Hanzo who stayed loyal to the guild, still unwilling to betray his brother. In the midst of it all, Genji knows his time is running out, and he needs to acquire the missing piece in gaining the control over his spirit dragon before it grows too strong and consumes him with no way back. Will Genji and Zenyatta be able to meet again, and what happens between the Shimada brothers?Find me on tumblr @suklaasiiliart





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a busy year, but I'm finally back! To those who waited for the sequel, I'm sorry I made you wait, and I hope you are as happy to get back into reading my genyatta assassin au as I am happy to be back to writing it~ The working title for the sequel fir Fly, little sparrow, will be 'Crippled wings' how much you want to read into it, is up to you, but this time around we have lot of angst ahead of us. To those of us who can't take hurt without little bit of comfort, don't worry too much, I'm also one of the weak ones ;-; I will warn you thought that this sequel will contain a lot of violence and dark themes, but we'll also get to see Genji and Zenyatta deepen their relationship, spoilers, yes, they are going to reunite, but if they weren't i don't think this would qualify as genyatta. But how and when they will meet again, well, stick around to find out. The story is back up and running, updates are every sunday! The rating is to go up when more chapters are added, officially for blood and violence but lemme know if you want to see some spice in this series ;3c

“I will not do it.”

The scent of blood was strong in the room. Because there was a lot of it or because the metallic tang on his tongue told him it was his own, the man didn’t know.

‘It couldn’t be helped’

He repeated to himself over and over again, as the fist sunk into the skin of his face again. His left eye was starting to swell, blurring his view. After what felt like forever, the beating stopped, and the cold voice gave him a choice.

Either do it yourself or someone else will. And if you won’t, you will watch as someone else does.

That was the choice he was given, and for him, there was only one option.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Zenyatta looked up to the sky coloured in blue, adorned with swatches of shimmering yellow and golden hues as the sun began its daily ascending over the horizon in these early morning hours.

The monks at the monastery always started their day early, as Shambali had yet to gain many members who needed sleep: It took less time for an omnic to fully charge during night time than it did for a human to acquire the same amount of rest from night’s sleep. Yet still Zenyatta felt his mind was weary, ghost of ache in his joints if did too much heavy labour, but the feeling never ceased no matter how much he meditated or tried and failed to not partake in the more taxing duties at the monastery.

 

It wasn’t that he intentionally avoided working, in fact, it was the opposite. The monk knew his condition hadn’t gone unnoticed by the master of the monastery. Mondatta had requested that Zenyatta , would rather concentrate on his teaching, and leave the bodily labour for others. The young monk abided by his master’s request the best he could, he knew Mondatta worried for him, but Zenyatta could never turn down someone in need lf help and so more often than  not he still helped around the monastery, beside the lessons he gave to his own pupils.

 

Despite Zenyatta’s best attempt to concentrate in his meditation, lately his mind had started wandering, the worry and longing in the back of his mind making themselves known whenever his hands weren’t busy with chores or his mind wasn’t preoccupied by matters to discuss during his lecture.

Zenyatta sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Like others, the monk had also asked himself what had brought this upon him. Why was he feeling just as weary before and after night’s charge? Why at times was he unable to concentrate on his meditating at all, when  at times he would get lost in thought for hours. The young Shambali master would always tell the worried ones to be at ease, and dismiss the questions with small laughter and subtle shake of his head. Everything was as it should, he simply had a lot on his mind. That was what Zenyatta told others, and what he tried to believe himself too.

 

The omnic was slightly startled by a sudden touch on his shoulder, and turned his head to see who had joined him in his morning meditation.

“My apologies, Zenyatta, I did not mean to startle you I see you are awake early as usual.”

 

“Ah, brother, I did not expect your company, what brings me such an honour?”

The younger monk laughed as Mondatta shook his head and sighed, exasperation laid plain in the sound but Zenyatta knew he hadn’t really offended his mentor, this was a comfortable pattern they had fallen into, friendly bickering back and forth, brotherly love, like humans put it.

 

“You know I will always make time for you, but I did have a reason to look for you.”

 

Zenyatta gathered his orbs in a loose circle around his neck, his posture straightening as the pads of his feet touched the ground. The monk stood up to face Mondatta, it was clear his meditating session didn’t have much results today either, so he simply gave his full attention to the discussion. From Mondatta’s serious tone he knew what he wanted to talk about was important, and though Zenyatta had mischief in his voice when he questioned the reason for such rare quest, it was true that Mondatta was very busy with Shambali and spreading its message.

 

“You have my attention, I- Meditating was not a success so to say. What it is that you wished to discuss?”

 

Mondatta clasped his hands together behind his back, turning to look at the beautiful, sunrise together with his brother.

“That, dear brother, has a lot to do with what is on my mind today, as much as yours if I am not mistaken.”

 

Zenyatta would have raised a brow in question, but in lack of such facial gestures he simply tilted his head instead.

 

“I have tried not to get involved, but we are all worried, Zenyatta, and for once it is taking quite a while for someone as clever as you to figure out the answer, I dare say, most of the other monks have already concluded on, me included.”

 

The young monk was truly confused now, fully turning to face the other, but the Shambali master simply kept his faceplate facing forward.

 

“If I understood correctly, you are referring to my-state,” Zenyatta hesitated in lack of better word for it- “But how would I still not see the cause if others already do, I am afraid I so not grasp what you are trying to say, Mondatta-“

 

“For once, I am not speaking in riddles, Zenyatta, I am saying exactly what it sounds like I’m saying.”

When silence thick with questions was still all he got in response, Mondatta turned around so that they were both now facing each other. This time when the older Shambali monk sighed, there was different kind of frustration in his voice, fond, something resembling a parent telling young child something that was completely obvious to them but they still needed to be patient in explaining it to young one.

 

“Then, I will ask you. You must remember the tour the Shambali was on last year, would you happen to recall where exactly were we at this time, exactly one year ago?”

Mondatta’s frame was slightly taller than Zenyatta’s, and so that the younger monk didn’t have to crane his neck so much to lock optical sensors with his master, Mondatta had bent down slightly, to match his eye level.

 

“Yes, I do remember, that was unusually eventful location, I seem to remember Shambali decided not to return there for a while, after what happened. In fact, we both agreed that would be for the best.”

Zenyatta still did not catch on to why he was being asked this, but he answered the question to best of his ability.

 

“That is correct, but now, after a year, I must ask if you still feel the same. Do you still feel it is the wisest decision for the Shambali not to return there. Let me rephrase that: Do you still not wish to return there, after all this time?”

 

“I-“ Zenyatta found himself at loss, as if suddenly his voice box had malfunctioned, or the answer that he was going to have given had somehow gotten lost in his circuitry, cutting his sentence short.

 

Mondatta straightened his back, tilting his head but still keeping his optics on Zenyatta, watching his reaction closely before he continued:

“That city indeed brought great danger upon Shambali, but in the end we all left unharmed, the events even brought us closer to each other, helping us understand our differences better.”

 

Zenyatta remembered well how they had arrived in that city, at the time, he hadn’t know how to bring their differing visions together, but after enduring such hardships together and almost losing Mondatta, the relief was so great it had cast shadow on small problems like those, that had eventually been solved when he only worked up the courage to discuss them with Mondatta. But to realize what truly held meaning he had almost had to lose what he had built his life upon.

And for not having to lost Shambali and Mondatta, was entirely to thank for the man that had been assigned to kill him, but had instead not only spared his life but also saved the Shambali order from losing their leader and crumbling apart.

 

Genji

 

Zenyatta’s hand came up to touch his chest plate, where underneath his core hummed. What was this ache? His life at the mountain temple had had him so busy Zenyatta hadn’t had time to so much as think of the man that had saved his life and his home, but as the name appeared in his mind, it was  suddenly impossible not to think about him.

 

Zenyatta remembered how they had met, how he had experienced more and stronger emotions in a span of few days than he had in all his lide. He was drowned in the flood of memories, he could almost feel the night breeze, and with the flutter of the pale hotel curtain he saw those dark, dangerous eyes.

He remembered how in the daylight those same eyes had looked so much softer, playful glow lighting them up when he smiled. The laughter that was full of vigo r, but he could almost hear the same voice growl with anger and whisper in fear. How in one moment he seemed so strong and reliable, but in another he was insecure, trying to mend the wounds that had never healed.

 

There was much Zenyatta still didn’t know about Genji, and perhaps it was as much the mystery of discovering more as the fondness of the things he already knew, but suddenly he could place a name on the strange feelings he had been subduing all this time.

 

How had he forgotten?

 

No, Zenyatta knew it hadn’t just happened, he had made himself forget, to be able to fully embrace his life with Shambali again, as one of the masters who now had his own students to guide on the path of the iris.

 

“I see you have finally found the answer.” Mondatta’s soft voice brought Zenyatta back to this moment, a comforting touch once again momentarily lingering on his shoulder. “Think on it for as long as you need to and once you feel you are ready, come to me with what you have decided is your next course of action.”

 

When Zenyatta was alone again, he almost slumped down. For a while, gathering his thoughts was all he could do, before he once again adapted the lotus pose his body was so familiar with. Only this time he didn’t attempt on meditating. For the first time in months the omnic wasn’t displeased at being unable to empty his mind, because now that he could place a name and a *face* as to why he had been so unsettled, his mind was suddenly at peace.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Genji laid down on the roof top, looking at the stars dimly visible in the artificial glow of the city lights. His eyes were searching the night sky for something, but even he himself didn’t know exactly what it was. It was probably morning in Nepal around this time. The stars must look so beautiful so far away from cities. The monastery was, well as far as he knew anyway, pretty much in the middle of nowhere after all.

 

Genji sighed. How nice would it be, to live somewhere like that. Or to live anywhere at all, for that matter. With the assassin’s brotherhood thinking he was dead, he couldn’t settle down anywhere, because if he did and they found out, he could rest assured he would settle down 6 feet under. He wasn’t really jealous of Zenyatta having the temple to live at, being constantly on the go had its up sides. He was more jealous of the temple having Zenyatta than the other way around.

The corner of the assassin’s mouth curled upwards. Of all the crushes he had ever had, this one had taken the least time to form and it still had lasted the longest. ‘Crush’ was a weird word to use for it, at times it had felt like something deeper, like there was some kind of bond between them. Maybe it was a crush, maybe something more or something less. It might have something to do with the fact that most people Genji had ever had any interest in didn’t know half of the things Zenyatta knew about him.

 

Assassin wasn’t exactly the kind of profession you could brag with when you were trying to hook up with someone at club or bar. And if someone did discover that fact about him, it was usually by accident and if by then they didn’t flee the scene on their own, Genji would make them, purely because he didn’t want the names of his dates or potential such ending up on the brotherhood’s hit list.

 

So far Zenyatta’s position as a member of Shambali had kept him safe from the assassins, and Genji doubted they would target him, the risk of getting exposed was too high. In a year the Shambali had shown no threat to them, let alone proof that they knew about the brotherhood’s existence at all.

 

A year. It had been so long since he had met Zenyatta, and the monk had left a lasting impact on Genji and his life. It had been a year since Genji had finally been able to leave the guild he never felt he belonged to, a year since he had been ln the run, declared dead. A year since part of him left with Zenyatta, waiting foe the day they would be reunited, and he was still waiting.

It was unsettling in a way he wasn’t used to, caring so deeply for someone that he didn’t want to move on but instead chose to wait. He didn’t even know if he *could* move on and forget, but that didn’t matter, because he had already made his choice. Sometimes Genji wondered if Zenyatta had forgotten all about him, and was just living his life like nothing had ever happened, but somehow he doubted that was the case. Hopefully.

 

Genji pushed himself up, stretching his tired limbs. He supressed a yawn, reaching for the backpack his brother imnotworriedaboutyou-Hanzo had left on the rooftop of a building, that had become their meeting place, although they never really met. It was the same rooftop where Hanzo had confronted Genji about finishing the mission when he had first kidnapped Zenyatta, and where Genji on his part had come clean with his brother about what the brotherhood really had planned for him, no matter if he cleared this one mission or not.

 

It felt like all that had happened forever ago. After the younger Shimada had caught his brother’s presence while watching the Shambali leave the city, they had a brief exchange of words, and that had been their last. Genji had kept his word and stayed alive, and Hanzo had also stayed true to his and they never saw each other after that. Though, that worrywart did leave rations and such at their so called meeting point every now and then.

 

Somehow it had become a habit to go by that spot and check if Hanzo had left him anything, even if Genji knew it was dangerous. But it was also the only thing keeping him connected to his last remaining family member. Maybe the next few times would be the last. Then he really would have to stop. The assassin patted away dirt from his trousers and after securing the backpack on his back he started to run towards the edge of the roof.

 

To the people who only ever looked at the towering buildings with their feet steadily on the ground, where you could barely see the rooftops, it might sound crazy but to him it was calming, steady pattern: Run, shoot the grappling hook, jump, and then he was flying through the air.

Occasionally the buildings were close enough to each other so that he could simply run across the roof, and jump onto the next one, when there was higher fall he would roll over his shoulder to lessen the impact, or when the next rooftop was surrounded by a fence, he would leap towards it and catch onto the edge with his hands, swinging his body over it in one smooth motion.

 

The wind felt good on his skin, fluttering his clothes and brushing through his hair. With the adrenaline in his veins and the blood rushing in his ears, Genji wasn’t in the city where he had no home and no family, he was somewhere else. Somewhere where he could fly freely, like the sparrow his father had called him.

Once, to defy the gravity and travel through the air and over the obstacles had been a way to defy his parents with its dangers and excitement. When he and Hanzo had lost their family and the manor they grew up in, it became a way to feel something, anything when grief and hatred had numbed all else. When brotherhood had taken them in and taught the young Shimadas how to live a life of an assassin, it had been a way to adapt and fit in. And when all else failed him, it was a way to survive.

Even when Genji had belonged to the ranks of the assassin brotherhood, he had been known as exceptionally skilled individual for how he effortlessly moved through the city, running along the thinnest of ridges of tile roofs, gracefully swinging past fences and other obstacles. When he for a reason or another was unable to use the grappling hook to reach the heights, Genji could scale up a wall in a way that looked so effortless, if one didn‘t see his focused expression or the muscles flexing as his whole body worked in synchronized, agile manner.

 

To adopt such a way of moving had been a choice first and a requirement second, which was a decisive detail. Almost everything the young Shimada was or had been required to learn by others he was able to, but if he didn’t pick up interest in the subject on his own, Genji would never put in the same amount of time and effort. But this was something he had come to love, and his skills were up to par with those of the most skilled assassins in he guild.

Not that Genji cared what others thought of him, but it was highly likely his level of skill had been the reason the brotherhood had taken so long to act on getting rid of him. Losing Genji was probably something they rather wouldn’t have experienced, if only he had been more obedient to follow their orders, like a dog in a leash. The assassin scowled as he pulled himself on top of a brick wall, balancing on the pads of his feet as he crouched down on top of it.

 

‘If only’ There had never been more efficient way to push him away than excessive rules and boundaries. Especially when some of those so called guidelines clashed with his sense of morale. Their parents had raised them to hold onto their honour, and his sense of justice was one of the only things Genji had left of them. He wasn’t going to slaughter innocent witnesses and simply say ‘sorry, wrong place, wrong time’ when he looked into their terrified eyes. There was already a trail of bodies left behind where ever he had passed, he didn’t need more blood needlessly spilled, he didn’t need more of those cold dead faces frozen in horror, screams and the sounds of blade piercing skin, flesh and bone in his nightmares.

 

Genji closed his eyes, taking in a long, shaky breath. Some of the people in his nightly horrors had died by his hand, some hadn't but couldn't even remember all of their faces. And even the ones he did remember, he would always try to forget, because their burden was far too heavy on his shoulders. Not only had he ended many lives, but Genji knew that sometimes he lost control. There was a raging beast inside him, inked on his skin, mixed in with the blood flooding through his veins, something much more dangerous than a sparrow he felt to be when he soared through the city.

Almost anything he could learn if he wanted to, but to control the beast under his skin was the one thing Genji had lost the opportunity to learn in blood and flame, leaving only an ache that had scarred his heart. Now, with their birth clan gone, only he and his brother were left of the once powerful clan known to all of their skill to control the beasts of the legends.

 

Hanzo was older of the brothers, and he had tamed his dragons with the guidance of their late father, but it was a different matter entirely  to teach the art than to follow the teachings of someone who possessed the knowledge of generations and the skill to pass it on. Hanzo had done his best to teach Genji, but there was a limit to what he could do, especially when Genji was missing a vital piece to truly become a master of his dragon.

Hanzo had been able to take his storm bow with him when they escaped, but to be given the weapon one’s dragon spirit was to be sealed in was a ritual performed upon finishing the training, a rite of passage to becoming a full fledged member of the Shimada family. And since at the time Genji had yet to even start his training, the dragon blade was left behind on its stand, for people to claim who did not own it as they raided the mansion.

 

When the brothers had fled the burning remains of their home, they had been far too young to hope to stand a chance against the rivalling clan ambushing their family in the dark of the night. But now that he was older, there were times when Genji truly wanted to return to avenge their dead parents and relatives, and to claim the dragon blade that was rightfully his as the heir to the Shimada name, taken as a mark of falsified victory.   

 

Sooner or later, Genji knew he would have to embark on the quest to retrieve the blade and to finish the ritual, because as wild as his dragon had become, he needed to gain the control over it before it consumed his mind so completely he would be unable to return to his senses.

The assassin never remembered exactly what or how it happened, but the memories of his spirit dragon going berserk came back to him in nightmares, in flashes of how with his own hands he slaughtered people as if in hunger, praying on them like a senseless beast. The images made him shiver, and Genji stood up, shaking his head to rid himself of the scent of blood that haunted his senses.

 

This visit to their meeting spot, his and Hanzo’s, it would have to be the last, Genji decided, clenching his jaw. He would stop by the rooftop one last time, and then he would finally start the journey to return to his homeland, retrieve his dragon blade and to avenge his family and to bring their slaughterers to justice.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is slowly coming together! This update is building base for the action and drama to come, hopefully you won't find it too boring to read. I'm looking forward to Genji and Zenyatta's reunion just as much as you guys, just a little longer ;-;

“Brother?” Zenyatta stepped through the doorframe, ducking his head slightly from the way of the patterned curtains pinned to the side, telling the monks passing by Mondatta was in his room -unlike when the curtains were hanging down covering the entrance.

 

“Ah, I see you have come to a decision then?” The Shambali master lifted his optics from the documents he had been reading, his response giving away no sign of it if he hadn’t already  been expecting Zenyatta.

 

“Perhaps so, but it was not an easy one.” The younger monk shifted his weight from one foot to another, twisting his hands together.

 

“Come inside and take a seat, we have all seen this coming, believe me or not.” Mondatta laughed, quite the rare sound in the temple, but even more welcome than it was uncommon.

 

Zenyatta seated himself on a pillow opposite from his master, table covered in documents filling the space between them. His optics lingered on the desk for a moment, before Zenyatta straightened his posture and faced Mondatta properly.

 

“I see you are as busy as ever, brother. I am ashamed to come to you with such decision when you already have your hands so full.”

 

“Do not fret over such a fickle matter, my friend. I have been preparing myself for this time to come, and when it finally is upon us, I find myself more relieved than distressed, for it has been hard to watch your struggle. For all of us.” Mondatta stood up, and rounded the table to stand beside Zenyatta, the younger monk followed the suit and stood up, not fully knowing what to expect, but he simply received a hum reminiscing a smile with a small tilt of Mondatta’s head, and gentle touch on his shoulder.

 

“You may only recently have admitted it to yourself, but I know it must have been hard to deny your feelings for so long, even more so now that you have finally admitted to yourself there is something out there you miss so greatly. No-“ The Shambali master chuckled “-Why avoid it, it is not something, it is someone, is it not?”

 

Zenyatta was slightly taken aback by his master’s straightforwardness, but beside being baffled he was glad Mondatta accepted it. Him.

 

Mondatta withdrew his hand, to hold it together with his other hand behind his back- his signature pose that he was very often seen to adapt, so often in fact that all the monks at the monastery looked upon it  with amused fondness.

 

“Yes, I suppose you saw right through me even before we left for Nepal.. It was no easy decision, but I must admit it is not the only reason or is this the first time going my own way has crossed my mind. Bear me no ill will for saying this, master Mondatta, but I presume we both know there are things I wish we would do differently.”

“Worry not, brother. I know this well, and even though I am glad you stayed with us for a year longer, I was always aware of the differences in our ways. But please, you need to call me master no longer, do you not recall you achieved the title of master yourself as well a whole year ago?”

 

Mondatta shook his head with light hearted laughter. “It is a shame we will have to watch you go, but know that you are always welcome here.”

 

“Thank you, mast-“ Zenyatta stopped mid sentence, stifling a laughter of his own at the meaningful tilt of his fellow Shambali master’s head.

 

“Thank you, brother Mondatta. I wish to say my farewells to all our brothers and sisters before I depart, I believe I owe an apology for my students as well... They have been making great progress, but I am still leaving in middle of their training.. Though I do admit lately I was not much help to them, as my mind has been elsewhere like my concentration, I’m afraid.”

 

There was reassuring warmth in the way Mondatta spoke: “We will take care of everything, you have plenty to think about on your upcoming journey.”

 

Though Zenyatta knew it would mean extra work for all the other the monks staying behind, the familiar, steadfast calm in the voice of his brother and friend was enough lessen the burden of the worries on his shoulders by one.

 

“Come, we will hold a banquet in your honour tonight, we should begin with the preparations.”

 

Mondatta started for the door, not stopping or turning to look if Zenyatta followed.

 

“But-“ The Shambali leader simply raised his hand as a sign he wouldn’t be accepting any complaints, and with a small huff Zenyatta started to follow.

 

“Let us have our fun, won’t you. I am sure all of us want our chance to wish you safe travels. Although I fear some may attempt to stop you from leaving, I assure you, your trip may begin the first thing tomorrow morning if you so wish. After all, I know you are not one whose head others are able to turn so easily once you have set your sights on something. If it were, I would already have tried to change your mind myself.”

 

 

 

The banquet didn’t include food and drinks for all of the Shambali were omnics, but even more than that there was music played with instruments, the wind chimes playing their melodies in the background while countless candles shone their soft light in the temple.

 

Long tables had been carried to the grand hall, set in the center of the room. The space was filled with laughter and conversing, leaving little space for sad farewells. That didn’t mean they weren’t sad to see him go, Mondatta had been right to predict the closest of his students tried their best to make Zenyatta stay.

 

“What will we do without you, master? I will surely lose my mind with Adit’s behaviour when you aren’t here to set him straight.” One of his pupils whined, making Zenyatta shake his head with fond laughter.

“You are all bright students, I am glad I had the chance to guide you on the path of the iris, but I can continue doing no longer. But please, Adit, spare Melina from the trouble and do try to limit the ways your curiosity occasionally takes the best of you. It is never a bad thing to have curiosity, but sometimes it might become a bit overwhelming to try and answer all your questions at once.”

The accused omnic rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “I understand, master.”

 

“Do not  misunderstand, I am not chastening you, I wish you will stay as eager to learn about this world in the future as you are.”

 

It was endearing to watch how his pupil’s posture straightened as his whole presence brightened upon hearing those word, as he promised he would do his best. “You as well, Sanjit,” The monk cast his optics upon his third student.

“Do not be afraid to trust others, so they will trust you in turn, though it is good to have some caution.” This quiet but hard working omnic was slow to show his emotions, and it had taken time to get him to open up.

 

“Thank you for your advice, master.” after a moment of hesitant silence, Sanjit added, with barely audible voice: “We’ll miss you.”

 

Like he had grown close with Sanjit, Zenyatta had also grown fond of Adit and Melina as well. He would miss his students like they would miss him, but he was also aware that right now this was the best solution for everyone.

“As I will miss you. You are all bright young omnics, preserve your vigour and let the Iris guide you on your paths.”

 

“You’ll come see us, won’t you?” Melina asked, a sniffle like sound escaping her voice box.

 

“That, I promise. Where or when our paths will cross, I cannot tell, but I am sure we will meet again. Perhaps sooner than you think, so be sure not to slack off in your studies,” Zenyatta added with mischief, to which his students responded with varied levels of enthusiasm once studying was brought up.

 

The evening passed by fast while the merry group was engrossed in reliving fond moments of their shared and separate pasts, as well as planning their future lives. One by one the monks started retreating to their private spaces, and after wishing every one good night, Zenyatta also returned to his room.

 

 

he didn’t have much to pack from his very Spartan room, only few belongings he wished to take with him. After a moment of consideration, Zenyatta left his Shambali robes hanging neatly on the wall of his room, only taking his casual clothes and by a whim of nostalgia, the yellow scarf from the set of clothing he had worn when he first had met Genji. Zenyatta packed everything in a medium sized fabric pouch, which he set next to the mattress on the floor.

 

The omnic seated himself on the mattress that was his bed, casting a glance outside. From his window Zenyatta could see the moon that had raised to the night sky, as it shone its pale light upon the monastery and village down the mountain.

 

Though he was feeling blue over leaving his home behind, Zenyatta recognized the feeling of anticipation somewhere inside him, bubbling at the thought of beginning his journey tomorrow. For a moment he let the information his optics registered flow by like water, not grabbing onto anything and instead focusing on his hearing. The silence of the mountains was something he would come to miss, in comparison to the constant buzz of the city.

 

And the stars, Zenyatta thought, as his optics focused at the sky again. He hadn’t spent too much time on star gazing when he had had the chance, which felt a little wasteful now that he was going to leave somewhere where he could hardly see them shine as beautifully as they did on the mountain.

But even if he could not see the stars themselves quite so well, it had felt much more enjoyable when he had watched them together with Genji in the city. Such small things, but Zenyatta realized he was looking forward to it all. Visiting the café they had gone to, to see if Genji still had maintained the bright green hair color. And if not, what did his natural hair color look like? All those things, he was excited to find out.

 

Was Genji as excited to meet him again?

The thought hadn’t so much as crossed his mind, but now that it did, Zenyatta suddenly couldn’t rid himself of it.

 

Maybe he had already forgotten? Or perhaps something had happened to him? No. The monk   calmed himself the best he could. He had no way of knowing, they hadn’t been able to contact each other the whole time, which left them with no other choice but to trust the promise they had made. Tomorrow, Zenyatta would leave the monastery, a from there on out, he would live day by day, eventually hoping to be able to meet Genji again.

When the monk finally let his body go in sleep mode, his mind was at ease. He trusted Genji and his word, the rest was up to him to make it back to where they had parted ways.

 

 

 

“So, you really are leaving us?” Mondatta stood at the gates of the monastery with small group of the other monks who had been the closest to Zenyatta, who was standing alone opposite to the other omics, a cart heading down the mountain waiting in the close distance.

 

“And here I was left with the impression you did not have in mind to try a stop me from leaving.” Zenyatta said with mirth

 

“Ah, but who can blame me for trying, the monastery is losing one of its most talented teachers.” Mondatta shook his head apologetically.

 

“Flattery will not make me change my mind either, dear brother.” The younger omnic laughed fondly, slinging the pouch with his belongings in it over his shoulder.

 

“At the very least, you are as humble as you were when we first met. Much else has changed since.”

 

“And for that, I have you and the Shambali to thank for. I wish you all the brightest of the futures, and you, my students, I hope I did not spoil you so much that you will cause too much trouble for your new master. Be well my friends.”

 

Zenyatta bowed, the small convoy mirroring the act before he turned to join the man waiting on the cart. The monk waved  the temple for as lo a he could see the other monks still standing at the gates, but because the mountain side road declined rather steeply, it was but a brief period of time.

 

A wave of nostalgia washed over Zenyatta as he watched the scenery change, leaving behind the temple he had lived at for the better half of his life. But a change wasn’t always necessarily a bad thing, he reminded himself. It would be a long journey, but a worthwhile one, the monk knew for sure, for the longing he had felt for so long would finally be sated.

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

No message, no new rations. Nothing. For the first time since this habit of theirs had formed Genji found himself missing something, anything as a sign Hanzo still cared and remembered.

 

Maybe it was better this way, Genji told himself. Before he had headed for this particular rooftop, the assassin had already decided this would be the last time he came here anyway. Creating reoccurring patterns was dangerous habit when you were supposed to be a dead man.

 

Genji pushed himself up, staring at the empty spot where something would usually have waited for him. Maybe Hanzo too had finally admitted the risks to himself and stopped, it was better for the both of their sakes. So then why was he upset?

 

A strained laughter escaped from his lips, and the assassin threw his head back, the fingers of his right hand combing through his hair, but stopping half way through the motion. Who could blame him for missing human contact in this lonely world? His arm fell limply to his side, but Genji kept facing upwards, staring blankly at the sky showing marks of night turning to dawn.

The light of the stars was dimming, sparsely showing through the too bright glow of the city light as the night was coming to an end, making way for the next morning. Genji closed his eyes to stop for a beat in this moment. Even at night the city never slept, the noises of traffic carrying through the night air. The hard cement under his feet, the chilly breeze digging through his clothes and ruffling his hair. And him, alone on this roof top.

Genji took a sharp breath in, his eyes opening simultaneously as the cold air entered his lungs. Once he returned, nothing would be the same. He wouldn’t have to hide anymore, not fearing losing control of himself again. Part of the reason why Hanzo was treated so differently from him was because the guild knew, better than they cared to admit that a Shimada in control of their dragons was someone you didn’t want on your bad side, Genji knew this.

 

This journey, whether it was a success or not, would mark an end to his life on the run, hiding in the shadows in fear of the guild. He would either die trying or acquire his sword and be the only master of his body, become someone the brotherhood didn’t dare to mess with.

 

Genji had long since changed out of his assassin gear and into regular clothes Hanzo had brought him, simple set of hoodie and jeans, sometimes sweat pants, t shirts or long sleeved knit sweaters. It was pretty funny to him that one of the most ‘dangerous’ activities now days to him were laundry days, when he visited the local cleaner’s to get something clean to wear. It wasn’t as if the laundry itself was dangerous, but going to public places was always a risk, since he could never be sure who walked among the masses of people.

The man started digging his bag for the clothes the guild provided for it’s assassins. They we by far the most suitable thing to wear for his mission, and he had even managed to wash them after he last stopped using them. They were nice and clean, but wrinkled after being stuffed in such a tight space with all his other clothes. Genji pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose.

Oh well. The sooner this was over with the sooner he could get out of the streets again. Right now he had bigger things to worry about than wrinkled clothes or lack of storage space. The thing he was never short of up on the rooftops was privacy, so without further ado Genji started changing into his assassin’s gear.

He was pleased to find it still fit like a second skin, and the suit wasn’t too worn out either. The assassin moved around experimentally, enjoying the feel of the clothes. How long had it been since he had last worn them? It mattered little, because soon he would be able to wear whatever he wanted again.

 

Humming quietly, Genji started towards the airport he knew was used for most oh the cargo shipments at the eastern edge of the city.

 

It took little effort to get in without being noticed, and just a little more time to find out when the next flight to Japan would depart. Eleven whole hours in the hold..  It wouldn’t be the most pleasant trip, but he had been through a lot worse, the assassin reminded himself to force the grimace from his face. At least the aircraft departed in an hour or so, so he wouldn’t have to wait too long after sneaking into the plane.

 

 

 

The aircraft landed with the grace of a pigeon that had had a few too many leftovers to eat, and Genji wished for umpteenth time that he had just risked the information getting into brotherhood’s hands and booked a normal ticket and made Hanzo pay for it. He knew there was no way it would ever have worked out, but it hadn’t stopped him from entertaining the thought during the eleven painfully long hours he had spent in the aircraft’s hold. 

When the staff started the preparations to unload the craft, Genji wasted no time in finding his way out of the hold and to the airport. So far everything had gone smoothly, he had to admit it, even if there was room for improvement in the comfort part of the trip.

 

Since the flight had departed from England at the small hours, it was only afternoon now. Genji grumbled, ‘great’ he would have to wait until dark before he could move freely. Maybe in the mean time he would get something to eat.

 

The assassin managed to bribe few local kids into buying him a takeout from a ramen shop. That was his safest option, because he would raise too much suspicion sowing up in the assassin guild’s attire in daylight. It cost him almost twice the price of the actual meal, damn these cheeky kids, but after he got the bowl he could finally retreat into a safe place with his meal to spend the rest of the day until dusk.

 

From his hiding spot the man watched how people went on with their daily lives. It felt odd  to be back in Hanamura after so long time. Many things had changed, but not so much he couldn’t recognize the city he had spent most of his childhood. Some of the places he remembered had closed down, but this far from the mansion that had belonged to the Shimada family, Genji hadn’t spent as much time so it was also possible he simply didn’t remember all of the shops and boutiques. One place he did remember well.

 

A small smile tugged at his mouth corner when he spotted the arcade, a place where he had al  ways begged his  older brother to go with him. Since Hanzo had never been fond of the place he had sometimes snuck in there on his own, only to be thrown out not too long after since he was at the time too young to be allowed there alone. Genji chuckled, thinking he would probably have spent most of his time there if they had still lived at the Shimada manor in his teenage years.

Genji leaned back, the empty ramen bowl resting next to him. The man glanced at the dishes, the name and logo of Rikimaru’s adorning the percaline. With a nostalgic hum he packed everything into the takeout box. He would return it when he went by the ramen shop later, he hadn’t even recognized that was where the kids had gotten his ramen from, no wonder it had tasted so good. Rikimaru’s had expanded a lot from the tiny stall since he had last eaten there, he was glad people had realized how good food they served and their business was flourishing. Shame he couldn’t eat there regularly anymore.

 

The noise was starting to die down, and Genji perked up when he noticed people were staring to go on the ways, some shops closing for the day as everybody was headed home. The assassin dropped down from the ledge he had been hiding on, making his way through the familiar alleyways. His first stop was at Rikimaru’s back door, where he left the delivery box with the empty bowl and dishes.

From there on out he made his way towards the mansion carefully, keeping an eye at his surroundings. It was eerily quiet, and when Genji finally saw the grand gates of the Shimada mansion before him, his breath hitched in his throat. Never before had they been closed for him, denying access. And never before had he wanted to spill the blood of the ones sleeping within these walls.

 

The assassin took a shaky breath, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Tonight, he would set right all that had been wronged all those years ago.

The shine of his eyes dimmed, and Genji could feel his blood rushing in his veins, concentrating to control his anger. He knew both fury and fear were dangerous. He would loose control before he knew it if he let his emotions take over now. Emptying his mind, Genji began to scale up the gate, landing on a watch platform that had been left empty.

 

Genji kept his stance low, following the patterns the guards moved in carefully. There were many places the dragon blade could be at, but he had a few guesses. There was the armoury, the main hall... It could also have been set aside in a better protected place, but he doubted that was the case. Probably it had been set on a platform, a medal of honour for their great achievement. Genji frowned.

Which ever was the case, for their sakes He hoped the sword was at least heavily guarded. Or perhaps it was better is it wasn’t, so he would cut down less people when he finally got his hands on the dragon blade.

 

He had already memorized the pattern the guards moved in, and as soon as they all were out of sight Genji was on the move. He jumped down from the platform, rolling over his shoulder to soften the impact. his feet moved in quiet and steady manner, and once behind cover the assassin stopped, pressed his back against a wall and listened.

 

The guards moved on their tracks, clueless of the infiltrator on their territory, and that suited Genji just fine. Once the route was clear again, he slipped past the gate to the inner garden. With a quick look he scanned the garden, once again moving on once he made sure it was safe to proceed.

When he reached the training grounds Genji stopped, waiting for a guard to pass by, pulling himself over the fence. He moved stealthily on the wooden boards, only a little more and he would be in the main hall.

 

“Care to repeat what was so special about this sword of yours again..? Slipped my mind.”

‘What..?’ The assassin froze on his tracks.

 

The question was answered with a roar of laughter he’d heard in his night mares since he was young.

The ugly, loud laugh he remembered from spying on his father’s meetings as a child, the head of the rivalling clan, he’d recognise it anywhere. But who were the other voices?

 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I could tell it to you again, how we ‘saved’ the city of this awful family’s rule , if you insist on it.”

 

Genji pressed himself against a wall. Were they coming to his direction?

The other voice stayed quiet, not satisfying the clan master’s obvious expectations for them to ask him to go on. Another voice sighed, seemingly taking up that duty instead.

 

“Then why don’t you go ahead and tell us?”

 

“Oh but of course, since you are so eager!”

 

The assassin would have found the situation almost comical, if only he hadn’t been there that night, been part of the family that had been so ‘heroically’ slaughtered by this bastard’s command. Instead, his knuckles were starting to turn white with how hard he was gripping the handle of his dagger, where his hand had unconsciously moved.

“Can’t seem to remember the poor fellas doing any better now than they did back in the day..” The voice was silenced with a hushed grunt from other man, presumably his superior because the first man quieted without protests.

 

“So, where were we, yes, the Shimada family was blackmailing the citizens, terrible people, no one dared to move after dark because they feared they would be robbed, there was even rumors of human trafficking, I dare say, these people should really be grateful that family is now out of the picture.”

 

“...And the sword?”

 

“Oh, that thing, it’s but a mere decoration, memento of those times, you see.”

 

‘Were they talking about the dragon blade..?’ Genji dropped down low, sneaking closer to be able to see better. There were three people in the room, the clan leader included. Genji furrowed his brows.

 

The two others he didn’t recognise. They were wearing almost all black uniforms, he didn’t think he had seen the logo before either.

One of the men in black crossed his arms, his voice lowering to a dangerous tone:

 

“Are you sure you remember correctly? For some reason this completely worthless object belongs to a list of objects we have been authorised to seize. I’m sure you are well aware it’s much more than a simple decoration, mister Maeda.”

 

“Ah, well yes, but you must understand it’s not so easy to part ways with such item, maybe we could discuss about it over tea..?” The man was twisting his hands now, sweating profusely.

 

“Forget about the damn tea-“ Again, the younger man was stopped by the other man with a look.

 

“We’ll be back tomorrow. Make sure the sword is still here by then, it will be leaving with us.”

Finally, it seemed like they were leaving. The two men clad in black followed by mister Maeda, who was by now forcing on a polite smile.

 

Genji sneered at him in the shadows, did he decide to cooperate or not, the dragon blade wouldn’t be here come tomorrow.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I wonder who the other guys were, are they the only ones that happened in Hanamura at the same time with Genji...? And was it a coincidence at all? We'll see next week! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, stay tuned for more genyatta assassin au, I might add side ships as more characters join the story but focus will stay on the robo boys. I want to get to the reunion part already, sobs, hang in there us,,


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting into some heavy content in this chapter, blood and violence ahead, be warned. With the appearance of more characters we are finally getting the story on the move!

When the figures left the main hall, Genji jumped down from the ledge, landing softly in the center of the room. He stood up, walking towards the stand where the mighty katana passed down by his ancestors lay.

 

‘Finally I came for you.’ His eyes were focused on the blade, blood rush thumping in his ears as his hand reached for the sword. The assassin’s hand gripped tightly around it’s handle, and he felt almost surreal lifting the blade from its stand.

 

It was something he had imagined doing many times, he had never known how or when he would get hold of the dragon blade, but here it was, in his hands, the weight making the muscles in his arm flex as he held the sword.

Slowly, almost ceremonially Genji removed the sword from its sheath, his eyes running up and down the blade glistening in the dim light. Suddenly a figure was reflected from the metal of the blade, making him instinctively whipped around in fighting stance.

 

“Show yourself..!” He hissed, eyes glancing around frantically. Genji was mad at himself for letting his guard down, enough so that someone managed to sneak into the room without him noticing.

 

“Is this how you greet your brother?” Hanzo stepped to his view from the shadows, small smile playing on his lips.

 

“Brother?” Genji almost dropped his sword, standing up straight as his eyes went wide looking at Hanzo. From all the places, he would meet his brother again back home in Hanamura, he certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I suppose I could ask you the same. Although I can already guess what you are here for,” He glanced pointedly at the dragon blade in his younger brother’s hand. For some reason the look almost made Genji to want to hide the sword behind his back, but it wasn’t like he had taken something that didn’t belong to him.

 

“You are right, I came to get it back. But that doesn’t answer to my question, what brought you here?” He had a weird gut feeling about this, and Genji shifted his weight to his other foot restlessly.

“That's true,” The playfulness in his expression died, and briefly the older Shimada closed his eyes, only to open them to look straight into Genji’s, his mouth pressed into serious line.

“I am here because of the brotherhood, they know, Genji.”

 

The younger assassin brother could feel the color leaving his face, staring right back at Hanzo in disbelief.

“What..? How?”

Hanzo simply shook his head, casting his eyes down, before visibly struggling to look back at his brother.

 

“They had known for a while. I knew it was just a matter of time before you would return here, so all I needed to do was wait.”

 

Genji hated the way his body tensed, especially when he noticed the hint of sadness it brought to his brother’s face, but he couldn’t help but put his guard up. The brotherhood had clearly asked Hanzo to kill him, he didn’t need to hear it to know it. He wanted to believe his brother wouldn’t go through without, but the guild rarely left you with any choice.

 

“You must have guessed why the brotherhood would have me stay here in wait for you..”

His heart beat loudly when he saw the other assassin reaching for his weapon, instantly dropping into defensive stance, raising his sword.

“You must trust in me this one last time, Genji.” Hanzo’s eyes never left his face, even as he moved to drop his blade, as well as the bow from his back.

“We can solve this together. Do not do anything hasty, brother. I know you want to avenger our family but that won’t bring them back.”

 

Genji took few hesitant steps back, glancing around warily. His breathing was getting, faster and lighter, and his vision kept, blurring unless he blinked his eyes.

“Genji-“

 

“-Stop. Just, stop.” The younger Shimada dropped the sword from his shaky hand, rising it to grip the side of his head.” He tried his best to even out his breath, blindly searching for something to hold on to as the world went side ways. Genji was waiting to land unpleasantly on the hard floor, but the impact never came, instead he landed in the arms of his brother, who had caught him before he lost his balance.

 

Genji’s brows were furrowed in effort to keep himself calm, concentrating hard on his dragon, and keeping it at bay.

 

“It’s all right, I will get us out of here.” His voice was quiet and soothing, something Genji remembered last hearing a long, long time ago, when he had been young enough to cry over scraping his knees. It somehow felt extremely funny in this situation, but he only managed a strangled laughter.

 

“The sword-“

 

Hanzo only sighed at him.

“What are you worrying about at a moment like this, of course I will bring it with me.”

The older Shimada was, after some trouble, able to get Genji on his back and gathered all the weapons from the floor.

 

Genji was barely aware of what was going on around him, all he could think of was not to lose consciousness, ‘he’s not going to harm me’ repeating in his head like a chant.

With his younger brother hanging onto his back like a lifeline, Hanzo made his way out of the room, sneaking across the courtyard and outside the castle walls. He kept going for a while longer, only slowing his pace once he felt Genji’s breath getting steadier.

 

They had travelled ways from their childhood home, ending up in the forest they sometimes had ran to play at, escaping the watchful eye of their escorts where ever they left home without their parents. Shimada family had been one with great influence, hence the heirs where protected from any possible harm. Not only because they were valuable for the family, but because their parents always worried for their safety. There had been instances where the boys’ livehad been under threat, because with power always came enemies, and Shimada family had been no exception.

 

Hanzo got down on one knee, carefully letting Genji slide on the ground, moving him so that his back was resting against a tree trunk.

“How are you feeling?”

The younger Shimada took a long breath through his nose, exhale through his mouth.

 

“I think I‘ll manage,” He looked around, confused “But where are we..?”

“You don’t know?” The older brother quirked his brow, giving him questioning look.

 

Genji looked around, his brows furrowing from effort of trying to remember, looking for something that would help him recognize where they were. A few frustrating moments later he just shook his head, letting his head fall back, resting against the tree.

 

“We were here on the night the Shimada manor was attacked, we had snuck out to play after we were supposed to go to bed. Our parents always got mad at us whenever they caught us doing that, but I can’t help but think they were glad we didn’t listen to them that night.”

Hanzo sat down on his knees, armed again, the dragon blade resting sheathed next to Genji. There was sad, nostalgic smile on his face as he spoke, looking somewhere past the other assassin.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if they knew we got away. If they died knowing we were safe, or if until their last breath they feared what had happened to us.”

The older assassin shook his head, before his eyes returned to his brother, “You know how they were, especially dad. Always thinking of us first.”

 

Genji was staring at Hanzo now, his mouth opening and closing but no words came out. Finally he just pressed his eyes closed, hanging his head.

A heavy silence fell between them, until Hanzo broke it, getting up to walk next to Genji, kneeling beside him again and touching his hand to Genji’s shoulder.

 

“I know we both wish we could have spent more time with out parents. I too, regret things I never said or did for them, but there is one thing I know they would have wanted if they knew we survived. They would have wanted to see us grow into men they could be proud of. I could never help you with your dragon spirit as much as I would have liked to, because we were always missing an essential piece.” He glanced at the dragon blade next to his younger brother, then angling himself so that Genji couldn’t avoid looking in his eyes.

“Look at me, Genji. Pick up your blade and stand. This is what you came here for, now let us finish this.”

 

With those words the older of the Shimada brothers pulled his hand back, standing up. As Genji was still hesitating, he detached the belt attaching his quiver to his back, carefully laying his storm bow and the quiver on the ground.

“Genji.”

He tried to sound angry, but the younger brother could hear the worry underneath. With a sigh, Genji got up, picking up his blade. He attached the dragon blade on his back, holding onto the smaller weapon in his hand securely.

 

“I know.”

 

Their expressions were stern, but for a moment, Hanzo smiled. “There you go.” In the next moment the smile was gone, and the younger assassin lowered his stance as Hanzo did the same, wielding a similar brotherhood’s sword he always carried with him.

They started circling each other, blades ready to strike or block an attack. They had both seen the ritual many times, but it was more dangerous with just the two of us, Genji could see the way Hanzo’s shoulders had tensed, and he was likely no more relaxed.

 

“Remember what father taught us. Let your anger give your strength, don’t be the strength for your anger.”

A sound of metal hitting  metal echoed in the night as the brothers clashed swords, separating to connect the blades again.

 

“Think of that night Genji. The blood on the ground, splattered on the walls. Friends and family, motionless, lying on the ground.”

Memories flashed through his mind, glimpses of their childhood home in flames, bodies of dead loved ones strayed across the yard, his nostrils flared, jawline tightening as he clenched his teeth together. He could feel the anger boiling the blood in his veins, making him swing his sword faster, making him put more strength behind each strike.

 

Hanzo ducked out of the way of his sword, sweeping his feet from the ground with a kick. Genji landed on his back with a growl, his eyes ablaze.

“You control the dragon, Genji. Don’t let it control you.”

 

The younger Shimada rolled out of the way as Hanzo’s sword pierced the ground where he had just laid and jumping back onto his feet, Genji bounced back. He was just a kittle too slow deflecting the next blow and Hanzo’s blade sliced at his upper arm making Genji hiss, trail of blood trickling down from the wound.

“Concentrate!”

 

He could feel the adrenaline burn, a bead of sweat rolling down the side his forehead and the presence of his dragon, right beneath the surface.

Genji was caught off guard, the present blurring and mixing together with the memories of past. He shook his head to concentrate, recoiling from the impact as Hanzo’s sword came down against his own, the blades clashing inched from his face. The older Shimada brother kept raining down blows at him, giving Genji barely time to dodge, much less recover enough to strike back.

 

His back hit a tree trunk, and the sudden lack of space caused him to miscalculate, and he was left with too little space to avoid the next hit properly. He shouted in pain as the sharp blade sunk in the flesh of his left shoulder, but managed to land a kick in Hanzo’s chest that sent him flying, tumbling across the forest floor feet away where Genji was pinned to the tree by the sword stuck on the trunk, piercing his shoulder.

“Genji..!” Hanzo pushed himself up, eyes wide in worry.

 

“Hanzo, now.” Genji could almost hear the beat of his heat as it raced wildly in his chest, the sparks of pain radiating from his shoulder kept him grounded, but the panic and adrenaline ad his dragon restless, he could barely keep it at bay anymore.

 

“DO IT!”

 

Hanzo broke out of his frozen trance like state, whipping around on his heels to run to his quiver, picking up an arrow he set in on the storm bow and readied the arrow to shoot.

The older assassin closed his eyes in silent prayer, and with deep breath he prepared to shoot the arrow. The air was filled with static, heavy with the energy of the ethereal power. Genji could tell without looking that the two dragons his brother controlled were as intimidate as ever, he could feel the sweat dripping down his neck, but when he forced his eyes open to look at them he froze completely.

 

He lost all his will to struggle, as if he had been staring the death itself in the eye as the electric blue beast got closer, twisting and tangling together by their tails, hungry mouths opened ready to consume him. The pain in his shoulder was too much, the constant struggle with his own dragon draining all his energy. He was done with all of this, he had had enough. Hadn’t he endured enough? His eyes were slipping closed, his brother’s shouting somewhere far away for him to keep fighting, but he was too tired to care.

 

Until he remembered there was one person he had made a promise to see again. One person he wanted to protect. Genji lifted his left hand to grip the blade pinning him to the tree, pulling at it even as his whole arm screamed in protest, the metal sinking in his palm. finally the sword budged, sliding off of the tree and the assassin threw it away, reaching for the dragon blade on his back.

 

The dragons were already upon him, and through the blue flame and maddening pain he endured even as his legs were screaming in pain, he forced himself to stay up. Genji took a staggering step forward, unsheathing his dragon blade. The words came from his lips naturally, and he could feel the power flowing through him, as the dragon emerged, obeying his command in became one with the blade, countering the two blue beasts with fiery rage, but instead of getting worse the pain numbed, as if the encounter between the dragons had evened each other out. The air wavered as the beasts tangled together, like measuring their strength, eventually dissipating in to thin air.

 

Gasping for air, Genji tumbled backwards, his vision swinging as his back hit the ground. He heard Hanzo running to him, kneeling beside him, the older Shimada brother picked him up to hold him in his arms.

“You did great, Genji. Father would be proud, like mother.” For some reason his eyes were watering, though Genji didn’t understand why.

 

“Don’t lie to my face Hanzo, I know I did pretty bad.” He tried to laugh but what should have been a laughter turned into a coughing fit. His chest was still heaving, and his forehead slick with sweat.

 

Genji knew he was still losing blood from the wound on his shoulder, though the adrenaline had already numbed the feeling in the wound. His skin that had been exposed felt like it was burning, and his clothes weren’t much in the shape to be called clothes anymore. He let out a deep sigh, and let his eyes slip closed.

 

“You know what? I really thought I was going to die, and I thought I was fine with it-“ Hanzo was picking Genji up but stopped, freezing when he heard those words.

“I thought I was fine with it, until I remembered Zenyatta. I changed my mind because I wanted to see him again.”

“And you will.” Somehow his voice sounded chocked, but Genji couldn’t see Hanzo’s face, he couldn’t really tell why.

“You think so..?"

‘That would be nice.’ Genji thought, before his mind went blank.

 

 

 

Hanzo carried his unconscious brother, and their weapons back to the Hanamura castle. Like the younger Shimada earlier the same day, he scoffed at the security, as he was able to slip past the guards to the main hall, even with his heavy load.

Once he arrived in the main hall, the older assassin brother carefully lowered Genji on the floor, setting the dragon blade next to him. He stayed kneeling like that, watching his little brother with melancholy smile on his lips.

 

How had he ended up carrying Genji around so much today, as if they were children again. His idiot little brother, who always got into trouble. It pained Hanzo to see the other so torn and tattered, especially because he knew he was to blame for it. But this was for the better, it wasn’t such a bad way to go. Genji had smiled the last moments he was awake, thinking of the person he loved.

 

Genji probably hadn’t even realised or admitted to himself how much he really cared for Zenyatta, but Hanzo had seen it plain as day when they last went their own ways year ago.

Like this, Genji wouldn’t have to live day by day missing him, not being able to live his life properly, constantly on the run and worrying for someone else when he couldn’t be there protect them.

 

Slowly Hanzo stood up, giving one last look at the other man. Crimson red was already pooling beneath him, the black of the his clothes hiding how much of it was staining the fabric.

 

‘Sleep well, little brother.’

 

He turned to leave, but his blood ran cold when he heard the weak calling of his name.

“Han-zo?”

 

Genji was trying to get up, and when his left arm was about to give out he leaned on his right.

“What are we doing here..?” He looked at Hanzo with weary confusion, who returned the look with his own wide, terrified eyes.

 

“Genji no, please don’t get up-“

His hand was drawn to the hilt of his sword, gripping it until his knuckles lost their color. The younger Shimada was still trying to get up, still not understanding why they were back at the manor.

 

“Don’t-”

Genji lost his balance and reeled back when he saw Hanzo drawing his blade, furrowing his brows in confusion.

 

“Hanzo- what are you-“

 

“It will be over soon.” Hanzo took a step closer, and Genji’s eyes were drawn to the blade in his hand, when it finally dawned to him.

“Brother no, stop.” Eyes full of fear and panic making his throat feel too tight to breathe, Genji stumbled back wards, every movement hurting more as he strained his damaged body to move.

 

“I’m sorry, Genji.”

 

 

Hot white pain blurred his vision as the sword sliced at his legs, cutting into the flesh of his thighs. A scream that sounded far too unfamiliar to be his left his ears ringing, more blood staining everything around him, splattered across the floor and on the man standing across to him, who he had once called his brother.

 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What on earth is going on?! I thought I told you not to try anything-“ Gabriel stormed into the room, his eyes went wide and the man halted the instant he saw the display of blood- and the body lying in the centre of the room.

“McCree, contact Moira immediately, we are flying back to base tonight. Tell her to prepare for medical case of emergency, code red.”

“What’s it got ta be to get ya all riled up?” The other man stepped in the room slightly after his boss, and his reaction was exactly the same as Gabriel’s.

“Sweet Mary...”

“Jesse, now!”

 

The agent started running the way the had come, calling Moira through his comm, leave Gabriel alone in the room. The Blackwatch commander walked to Genji, kneeling next to the bloody mess of him.

“What did you go through to end up in this condition..”

 

Mere moments later Jesse was back with Moira, and they started moving Genji onto a stretcher after Moira had given him what first aid she could in this situation.

“The boy is quite a mess, we might end up bringing back a body instead of a man...”

“Not now O’Deorain!” Gabriel hissed through his teeth “-Take the sword, we are running out of time here!”

 

Moira shrugged, inspecting the blade she had picked up while she followed the other two Blackwatch agents out of the building.

“I am simply delivering you my professional medical opinion.”

“There’s better time for this don’t cha think, I’m feeling a bit nauseous here so could we just hurry up and get to the ship.”

“For once I can say I agree with you, now get the move on..!”

 

 

Once in the aircraft the team hooked Genji onto the medical devices, leaving Moira to do what she could to get him more time until they arrived at the base. In the mean while, Gabriel was connecting a call to the Gibraltar watch point.

“Jack, weave got a problem in our hands here. Yeah, we got the sword, but there’s something else.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I know it was pretty heavy, hang in there, its not hurt/comfort without the comfort part, we just haven't gotten there yet ;._.;


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